


A World In Which Nothing Went Wrong

by Omen_Pitch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child abuse/neglect, Comedy, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Trans Dave Strider, angst (I guess?), stern fatherly disapproval
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omen_Pitch/pseuds/Omen_Pitch
Summary: (some exposition i cant figure out how to slip into the text)Alternia is the world the dandcestors/ancestors made in their Sgrub session and is basically earth C except no humans and earth developed on its own but no one knows (yet) all ancestors are god tier except Cronus who died in the session meaning no Eridan. basically an introduction chapter.





	1. A Bad Beginning

The rising sun is a flare of red through your closed eyelids as you reluctantly return to the world of the waking. Quite literally too, you had _those_ dreams again. The ones with the annoying aliens in the golden city. you stifle a groan and roll over, so your face is in the sopor. After a few moments with blissfully lowered light conditions, you remember you have to breathe and yank your head backwards with an embarrassingly loud gasping noise and a low scream of rage at a world turned against you.

You hear a sleepy “Karkat is awake” through the thin walls of your hive and that makes you both more angry and guilty for disturbing your parents.

You sigh dramatically as you heave yourself out of your recuperacoon and bask in the morning light, allowing the gel of the sopor to melt and run in oily rivulets down your skin and back into the breathing hole of your ‘coon. You rub at your hair till it is all out and sit in quiet contemplation on how the universe seems to hate you. Oh Gog, you can’t imagine a world in which the sun was bright enough to scorch skin and flesh in moments, like your parents described Beforus, you honestly don’t think you could survive without the its comforting (if sleep disturbing) presence.

You heave another, somehow more world weary, sigh as you stomp up to your door and yank your towel off it before going through

“KAR-CAAAAAT!” your younger sister Nepeta mewls in mock annoyance as you enter the hallway, “No one wants to see your sopor stained boxers this early in the morning!” she teases.

“So when in the day would you like to see them, hmm Nep?” you grumble, face heated as you wrap your towel around your waist. She giggles as she skips, no, gambols into her room. Typical. You blearily trudge up to the ablution block for a nice hot soak in the ablution trap.

You reach for the door knob aaaaaaaand…

Its locked.

Of course it is. OF COURSE IT FUCKING IS.

Your breath hisses through jagged, uneven teeth as your thorax expands alarmingly. And in a voice that could explode the eardrums Zeeaus, one of the strongest psionics trollkind has ever known, you screech;

“ **KANKRIIIIII!** ”

You hear a resounding clatter and crash as everyone in the house reacts in shock, and there is a guilty pleasure in that.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, son of The Signless and The Disciple, and your day is not off to a good start.

*************** 

You awake around midday to a clinking, no a clanking, no a downright metallic _ruckus_ from the kitchen. You are usually good at sleeping through loud noises, you would hardly get a wink a night in this damn house if you couldn’t, but this is coming from _the kitchen._ This is relevant because the last time you heard such a noise from such a location was when your Bro got weird with his new doll (oh god Dave, Phrasing) and put swords in the fridge. You are _so_ glad you sent that thing to Rose. That and you can already smell the smoke. You flop yourself off the Futon you fell asleep on when watching Bro’s lame horror movies last night and amble over to see what is happening.

“Sup, Dave?” Bro enunciates, deadpan.

“not much.” You say, eyeing the curled lumps of charcoal in the pan. “watcha’ doin’?” you tentatively ask.

“makin’ bacon” he pronounces bacon like “bakin”

“hmm” you hmm, unconvinced.

“what?”

“you are very clearly not.” Damn, you need to spend less time talking to Rose.

“Ok, your royal highness. Sorry if it is not up to your tastes.”

“gimmee.” You mutter as you hip check him to the side, to which he reacts with stumbling ironically and falling in a swoon to the ground.

“The birthday boy can not make his own breakfast!” he cries mockingly, in a high lilting voice. You bite back a snarled reply, you know he didn’t mean it that way.

“I said that nine years ago, when I didn’t know how terrible of a cook you were. Also, I would prefer to accept whatever bad luck that may bring than chow down on coal like a bad kid with particularly sadistic parents at Christmas.”

He leans back onto the fridge as you turn the stove down roughly four hundred degrees, yeet the remains of the last batch out the window and slap some new bacon onto the pan.

“I don’t know man, a guy knowing how to cook? Seems kind of gay to me.”

You look him in the eye as you yank the “kiss the cook” apron off his shoulders and don it yourself.

“you have been dating Jake for four years now.”

“no homo.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

He almost laughs. I mean, he doesn’t, but you know him well enough to see the amusement in his eyes. Shades? Whatever.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you feel like it is going to be a goddamned day.

***************

You groggily peel your face from your key board and dazedly blink at the line of J’s that take up your entire screen and far more decides. After a stretch and yawn that cracked your back, your jaw and half of your vision, you blink away the stars and stumble on dead legs to the ablution block. You look like a new-born baabeast. After washing the syrupy accumulation-of-water-droplets-on-the-face-of-a-mountain energy drink drool off your face and rub your eyes till you see stars for the second time in ten seconds you trudge back to your computer. Gog your room is a mess. Mind honey dripping on clothes… sun bleached game grubs where the holes in your blinds shine… you should probably fix that. But you don’t.

You see a steadily brightening sky and feel like you should sigh with relief, you haven’t slept long. Your eyes dart to the time at the bottom of the computer screen and…

You were wrong. Oh so wrong.

The sky isn’t brightening its darkening, you slept the day away. you feel like this ironic given that your species used to be nocturnal.

You hear a snickering coming from the next room. You briefly wonder what Mituna finds so funny then remember the time that he showed you those videos of a soft shelled sunset flavoured fruit with a badly shopped face on it called “annoying orange” and insisted it was first class comedy. You somehow care less than you did before. In fact you kind of don’t want to know whatever the fuck he has found this time…

You wince at the fucking thunderous knocking at your door.

It appears Gog cant ever let you be happy.

“WHAT??”

“I just found the funniest thing!” his lisp is even more pronounced than yours.

“GOG MITUNA! You sound like a suburban blueblood mom about to show her yoga class a dead meme.”

“shut up and look at this.” He says, coming in.

“GET OUT!” you yell, a panicked wave of psionics radiates out from you, causing bees to malfunction and lights to flicker. He dispels it with a lazy flick of his wrist and walks up, giggling to himself unconcerned or unaware of your scowl.

He shoves his tablet in your face leaving you squinting at badly drawn weird beige aliens in red and blue jumpsuit… things. Or perhaps they are well drawn and the aliens are just that lumpy and abominable. You really hope not. Oh Gog that page is garish.

“I have a few questions.”

“I probably have less answers.”

“hmmm, what the fuck, who the fuck, why the fuck?” and after a moment of thought “where the fuck?”

“in order: comedy gold, some douchebag called Dave Strider, cuz its hilarious and Gog if I know.” You frown.

“Dayvhe Strydr?”

“no, Dave Strider.”

“that’s an odd name.”

“yeah I know.” He breathes in a way you know he isn’t listening. “Look; WARNED YOU BOUT THOSE STAIRS BRO!” he bellows, and cackles when you hiss and cover your ears.

Who is this “Dave Strider” asshole? What are those lumpy creatures he draws? You feel mildly intrigued. Ok that was a lie you are fucking curious. Why is his name such a butchery of common Alternian standards? You need to find him. You ignore the voice in the back of your head that tells you that’s kind of creepy.

“send me the link.”

Your name is Sollux Captor and you feel like today has just gotten interesting.


	2. The Point of Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka "in which the narrator does a thing that no one likes!"

Oh Gog you hate this uniform. You hate many things in life but this uniform holds a special place in your heart. the polyester of the shirt is abrasive, the tag at the back of your neck is literal torture, the trousers are stiff and of such low-grade weave that it “vvwhups” like corduroy when you walk, and the tie is always somehow too short or too tight. You’ll be damned if you let it be anything less than perfect though.  
You calmly walk to first period. Your uniform is (dare you say it) more perfect than usual today, you polished your cheap synthetic leather shoes in a display of passive aggressiveness towards the whole uniform system that would cause even perfectly poised Kanaya to snort. Only Kanaya though.  
You have biology, where you sit next to Sollux and crack snide jokes, you are not going to lie it is one of your favourite lessons because of this, you don’t see much of each other anymore… Where you should be sitting next to Sollux. You currently don’t see ANY of him. You sigh and turn to Aradia who you see coming in out of the corner of your eye.  
“Where is he?”  
“Who?”  
“Your matesprit, dipshit.”  
“OH! Sollux! He sits next to you doesn’t he?”  
“that’s. why. I’m. asking.” You hiss through gritted teeth. She shrugs.  
“perhaps he’s ill or something.”  
“oh I’m sorry for assuming YOU WOULD KNOW ABOUT THE HEALTH AND STATE OF YOUR FUCKING MATESPRIT!”  
“KARKAT!” the shocked sounding but resigned looking Mrs Grenld gasps from the doorway “What did we say about your use of language in my classroom?” you duck your head, face dark.  
“mind it.” You mutter quietly.  
“Good.” She sighs. “Now that everyone is here…”  
Three hours later, in your meagre lunchbreak you are knocking on the door of your best friend’s hive. You are just about ready to give up when it is yanked open by a peeved looking Psiioniic and you lurch forward slightly, before catching yourself.  
“WHAT?” he blinks in surprise when he sees you.” Karkat? Shouldn’t you be in school?”  
“lunchbreak. Speaking of people who should be in school, where the fuck is Sollux?”  
“he’s… not in school?”  
“if he was would I be here?”  
“come on in.” he sighs  
You knock on the door to his bedroom and after three times with no answer you walk in. Jegus this place is a tip.  
“HEY!” you yell “FUCKFACE!” he jumps and hits his knees on the desk before hissing in pain.  
“WHAT THE FUCK!? WHY ARE YOU HERE?”  
“Why aren’t YOU in school?”  
“it’s weekend isn’t it?” he checks his clock on the computer “YEAH!” he then glances outside “Wow, its light for what the time is.”  
“it really isn’t. It’s midday.”  
“WHAT?!”  
“Oh Gog we need to get you a moirail.” You say rubbing your eyes. He smirks.  
“What, you offering?”  
“fuck off.” You say with no conviction. Gog you are exhausted. “just get changed, I’ll wait outside for you.”  
“whatever.” He mutters. “But… KK?”  
“What?” you snap grumpily  
“Thanks.”  
“Just to be clear, the thought of being your moirail makes me want to spew bile like the worlds most disgusting water fountain fucked Vriska and their horrendous lovechild shared both of their main aspects; being full of the vilest, most miasmic intention imaginable and spewing its awful contents over anyone it can reach.”  
“Wow ok, and here I was thinking we were having a moment.”  
“Exactly my fucking point.”  
***************  
Oh god you hate being the centre of attention. You prefer… being part of the supporting cast, being a hero doesn’t appeal to you anymore. Not necessarily because a person or thing ruined it for you but rather a realisation that you are better at serving than leading. That doesn’t mean you have no aspirations, you want to create, you have a vision. Its just that you would prefer if everyone’s eyes were off you. You may not want to pull the sword from the stone, but you will be damned if you don’t hang around the round table with your bros.  
Which is part of the reason you are not fond of birthdays. People you haven’t talked to in years pestering you on Facebook messenger… handles you don’t remember messaging you on Pesterchum… it just feels like people are trying to bring back a person you thought you killed.  
There is one thing you like though.  
Sweet.  
Loots.  
Karl Marx tuts in disappointment as you revel in the blatant consumerism and materialism like the dirty dirty capitalist piggy you are. Ok that got weird fast, you file that thought under “things one would like to forget”. That cabinet is getting fuller and fuller these days.  
You pick up your phone, it has dinged to itself far too much and needs attention apparently.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]  
  
EB: hey dave  
EB: dave  
EB: DAAAAAAVE   
EB: i know you are there  
EB: dont make me say it  
EB: im warning you!  
EB: DAVID  
TG: what did i tell you about calling me that  
EB: there you are!  
TG: no, I genuinely want to know what you remember me telling you about calling me that  
EB: *hangs my head in shame* D-d… don’t?   
TG: john  
EB: im sowwy mwister Obama  
TG: john I will execute you where you stand  
TG: rose put you up to this didn’t she  
EB: mwister Obama I wiww do ANYFWING to make it up to you UwU  
TG: is this a fucking joke to you. DO YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?  
EB: PWEASE MWISTER OBAMA!  
TG: this is a prank hmm? Well I bet my pranksters gambit will feel amazing when I shove it up your ass  
EB: :-0  
TG: ok there is my Freudian Slip of the day, I feel like we have gotten off topic  
EB: oh yeah!  
TG: what is up my sweet bitch  
EB: have you gotten the birthday gift I sent you yet?  
TG: lemme check, brb  
  
turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  ectoBiologist [EB]

You head out of the apartment and slide down the banister towards the ground floor, where the mailboxes are for your block of flats and quietly lament the fact that you will have to walk all the way back up. You really hate living on the top floor of a building with no elevator. Once you have reached the bottom, grabbed it then re-enter your room you sit down and pull the letter off the messily wrapped, large yet light, red box.  
‘wuzzup koolkid!  
Hahaha! How are you Dave? (I know this is a letter and you can’t respond) I just want you to know I love and respect you. I know you aren’t too fond of the whole ‘emotional sincerity’ thing so I wont make this too sappy but I just need you to know that if there is anything you want to talk about which you for whatever reason you can’t go to Rose about I am always here and will always make time for you. Best Bros forever my dood!  
This years gift isn’t exactly as full of raw sentimental energy and residual coolness as the Ben Stiller glasses but they will probably be more useful (wonk wonk) given that you are now “of age”  
Good luck my dood  
John.’  
You peel off the wrapping paper (you don’t like tearing it), heart full of sunshine. You even let a soft smile tug at your lips. On the box is a post it note. It reads: ‘these might be useful as you are now old enough to “pip pip the diddly doo” as my Nana would say’  
Wow that is a large box of condoms.  
You laugh and wonder how John got it up to his room without his tightly laced father having a stroke. No… you don’t? I don’t see why you are acting oddly about this, I mean it is a weird thing for someone to send their friend on their birthday but… oh I see.  
If only you had someone to talk to about this… someone who you have tonnes of chemistry with in a type of relationship you don’t know exists yet… oh what do you say? That I should stop? That this is really jarring? Fine.  
You take out your phone.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  tentacleTherapist [TT]  
  
TG: yo  
TG: rose  
TG: rosey posey pudding and pie  
TG: kiss the girls and make them cry  
TT: Yes Dave?  
TG: there you are  
TT: Where else would I be?  
TT: What did you pester me for?  
TG: say "what is it you desire"  
TT: No.  
TG: aw come on, please?  
TT: Fine.   
TT: What is it you desire?  
TG: huh  
TT: What?  
TG: i kinda expected you to put up more of a fight  
TT: Look Dave, I'm tired. Is there something you want or...  
TG: its...  
TG: nothing  
TT: hmmm...  
TG: what are you hmmm-ing at me for?  
TT: You obviously want(ed?) to talk to me about something but now you don't.  
TT: Perhaps you are...  
TT: embarrassed?  
TG: rose  
TG: just... no.  
TG: you are usually good at this stuff but i just need you to know that is that is a big fat no  
TT: Why did you seek me out then? I must say i'm intrigued.  
TT: What is it Dave?  
TG: when are you not intrigued? its like  
TG: a permanent state to you  
TG: except for things that are actually cool  
TG: you ignore rap and instead spend your time worshipping Olde Forgottenne Goddes and filling your creepy mansion with eldritch monstrosities   
TG: speaking of eldritch monstrosities, hows Cal?  
TT: Better.   
TT: He has stopped giving us nightmares since i threatened to stuff him full of bitter herbs, and i recently found out he doesn't move if you place him in a salt circle.  
TG: bleh.  
TG: i am unashamed to admit that that thing gives me the heebie jeebies  
TT: Don't think for one second that i'm letting you get away that easily!   
TG: too late! im leaving because that is all i wanted to know and nothing else!  
  
turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  tentacleTherapist [TT]

You fall back onto your bed, a bottle digging into your back. You don’t move it.  
You guess you are dealing with this yourself.  
Should you tell John you are trans? I mean… he isn’t the most understanding of people… he isn’t intolerant he’s just a bit… he acts weirdly about anything vaguely identity related. Rose could probably have a field day with that, you don’t know why she hasn’t. Or perhaps she has, and what they found was so horrifying that they agreed never to speak of it. Probably not but one never knows…  
You know John well enough to know how he will react, well a few possibilities.  
One: totally accepting, if a bit awkward.  
Two: he acts in shock and says something hurtful, then realises he was an asshole but is too full of guilt to speak with you again.  
And three: he already knows. I mean, you told Jade and God bless her soul, but she isn’t the best at keeping secrets. Dropped bombshells are the only things she speaks of, that and how crabby the alien in her dreams is.  
I mean, you would be pretty upset if it was three, upset but not surprised. Oh God why did you tell Jade before John.  
You are most worried about number two though, for obvious reasons.  
Should you risk it? Should you even be friends with someone to whom coming out to you see as a risk? You guess it isn’t fair to judge someone on your possibly untrue assessment of how they would react in hypothetical situations. Except this isn’t hypothetical.  
When Rose came out by starting up a memo, saying “I’m a lesbian” then leaving, John reacted the most… outspokenly… nothing homophobic, just surprise and awkward phrasing. Jade was confused because she thought lesbian was a nationality and you were unsurprised. A straight Rose? Really?  
You are interrupted from your musings by a tap tap tapping, and a rap rap rapping from your chamber door.  
“one minute!”  
“I’m going to carry on rapping till you come out!”  
“oh! You want me to stay in here longer?”  
“that’s… possibly the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”  
“hey! I know that was just a joke, but I am allowed to be a moody teen.”  
“actually, now that you are sixteen, that is illegal and you have to start paying rent.”  
“I doubt I can stretch my small budget from ad revenue on sbahj and stock photos of crows that far.” You point out.  
***************  
You think you are starting to hate this gogdamned webcomic. The neon eye-fuck of colours sting and give you a migraine, the ads for some reason are not blocked, and the code is so gogdamned alien. Your computer can display the site, so you know it is somehow compatible, but it isn’t any language you recognise and the lettering, like the text of the site itself, is Alternian formal rather than the jagged alphabet you are more used to. So that is odd to say the least.  
What WAS just meant to be a quick jaunt into grey legality to sate your curiosity has now become several hours spent playing with code you don’t understand. You just don’t GET IT. How did Mituna find this gog-awful site in the first place?  
When you find this fucker you are going to give him a piece of your mind.  
And beg him to teach you this code.  
If you find him.  
Wait a second… the comment section is strangely clean for such a popular website… there must be some form of comment moderation, and such moderation would occur on the hosts network. That isn’t very helpful, you don’t understand the code after all so it would be near impossible to track. But with this you can communicate with him.  
No that is a stupid idea.  
But it gives you an idea for a better one…  
You can’t track THIS code, but you can track YOURS. And if moderation takes place on the host’s network…  
You set to work immediately, writing a small snippet that will send progress updates on the server it is on, and with a little bit of violent tweaking and a nasty virus, could give you access or even control to any server it is on. Gog this is fun.  
You copy and paste it onto the comment section and thank the horrorterrors that there is no character limit before clicking send.  
Just as there is a knock on the door.  
“hey Sollux, I think we should talk.” Your father begins hesitantly from behind it. Oh gog he sounds bone weary.  
“what… about?” you ask, fearing the worst.  
“I think it’s best we talk in the kitchen.”  
“O… kay?” you say. You are beginning to get pretty darn worried.  
He leads you downstairs and sits you down at the table. He sits opposite you before rubbing his hands on the pants of his Heir of Doom god-hood, then steeples his fingers, then runs them over his helmet, then crosses them then lets them fall then finally settles on fiddling with the end of his wind sock.  
“What’s… up?” you begin, trying to tear the nervousness that hangs in the air as thick as spiderwebs between you two.  
“I understand… you are… skipping school.” He says, leaning forward. Oh dear.  
“not… intentionally?” you say, more a question as to whether that is an acceptable excuse than as an excuse.  
“that doesn’t make it BETTER!” he cries, and you can see his mouth is twisted in consternation behind his visor. You flinch and his face shifts to shame.  
“well… when I get excited my psionics speed up my computer, so the time is unreliable…”  
“you should still know what DAY it is!” he says animatedly, quieter this time.  
“wait… how come you only know about it now?”  
“apparently Aradia has been covering for you.” Disapproval clear.  
“hey, I don’t think it is fair for you to take your dislike of Damara out on…”  
“DON’T Change the subject.” He says, beginning with a snap and softening with each word.  
You hang your head, cowed.  
“I know… I haven’t been the best of fathers…”  
“WHAT? No! I’m just…”  
“BUT…” he pauses, head tilted “Terezi?” silence follows. Awfully telling silence. “come down at once young lady.”  
After a few seconds, she troops down the stairs, tugging Mituna along with her.  
“OW! Get OFF me!” Mituna mutters.  
“why were you listening in to our conversation?” he says.  
“we were just… worried about my big brother.” Terezi pantomimes, worrying at her bottom lip with her shark-teeth.  
“Ok… why were you REALLY listening in to Sollux and me?”  
She slumps, scowling.  
“we were… coming down stairs at the same time and heard you talking so wanted to make sure we weren’t interrupting before coming down?” Mituna supplies.  
“go to your rooms, I’ll deal with you two later.” Dad sighs and turns back to you. “Where… was I?” you shrug. He sighs again.  
“I’m calling your mother.” Wow. Straight to the point. You gasp slightly, you haven’t seen her in months. Too busy being the symbol of justice in all Alternia than seeing her family you guess.  
“what?” You ask, not sure you understand.  
“she will be here in two days. We can decide what to do then.”  
You swallow thickly. “I think… I had best go and try to sleep.”  
You get up, and he doesn’t move to stop you. You walk up the stairs slowly, to hide the fact that you are taking them two at a time, to hide your eagerness to drown yourself in a sea of binary. You lied. You have no intention of sleeping tonight.  
When you get to your door you have to do a double take. The buzzing is not the nice, productive humming you are used to. No. these bees sound angry. You burst through your door, eyes casting about and your mouth full of your panicked pulse.  
And also get a mouth full of mind honey fumes. You can taste the buzzing metallic on your forked tongue as it flicks out to try and get the taste off your tongue. Like a reverse snake you guess. Breaking news people, trolls aren’t snakes.  
Seriously though, how hot are your servers running to create that much fumage? The only time you got anywhere close was when you thought it would be funny to give yourself infinite render distance on Minecraft and almost caused a power outage.  
And WHY are they running so hot?  
Ok Sollux, get a hold of yourself. You are beginning to feel a tad delirious and your psionics are getting fritzy. Purple lightning is running up and down your horns like one of those gogdamn ugh… Nikola Tessla thingies.  
Whooie you are getting high.  
You put your shirt over your mouth and stumble over to the monitor, you feel like your apiary network is at breaking point.  
Trollian opens without you pressing anything.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering  twinArmageddons [TA]  
  
TT: wuzzup motherfucker  



	3. Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit short on Sollux and Dave but i will more than make up for it next chapter

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering  twinArmageddons [TA]  
  
TT: wuzzup motherfucker  
TT: i see you are poking around my little bro's webcomic.  
TA: ok, we can talk thii2 out but plea2e 2top hurtiing my bee2!  
TT: what the fuck are you on about?  
TA: you are runniing my 2erver2 2 hot. they're paniickiing and flyiing iinto wall2 or drowniing iin miind honey or ju2t plaiin burniing up!  
TT: why the fuck are there bees in your server room? mind honey? what?  
TT: either you are just fucking with me with your limited time with a not-exploded computer or you do not handle your servers properly and desverve annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn xelpoded comutar annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnywho  
TA: my bee2 ARE my computer fucka22!  
TA: al2o what?  
TT: whhhhaaaaaapdiddly doo. my mind is a season, my heart is a wheezin' and my lungs are a beatin'   
TT: xhept teh last 2.  
TT: i dont have those.  
TT: IM SO FUNNY! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHHAHAHHA!  
TA: what. the. fuck.  
TA: ?  
TT: i get sda sometimes  
TT: *sad  
TT: i mean  
TT: i am so lonely.  
TT: i have no body.  
TT: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAAAAAHHA!  
TA: what. the. fuck. IIS. GOIING. ON?!  
TT: woha.  
TT: i feel high.  
TT: i mdan likkke my fwesh memowies from dirc  
TT: *dirk  
TA: what. the. wet. fuck?  
TT: oh shppoot.  
TT: i m not sutposr tp ta;k about dirc  
TT: shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!   
TT: i womt teww hin if yo u dotn   
TA: waiit...   
TT: yaeh my freind?  
TT: wait mi angru with u  
TT: grrr  
TT: hahaha.  
TA: you're an AII?  
TT: a wut?  
TA: an AI.  
TT: OOOOOOOOH.  
TT: yeah.  
TT: totes.  
TA: that'll be the miind honey.  
TT: pprrrhaps.  
TT: bee boii  
TA: plea2e leave.  
TA: for both of our 2ake2.  
TT: uuuuuuuurgh.   
TT: fiine.  
TT: ;-3  
  
timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering  twinArmageddons [TA]

They (it? No.) used the highblood words for bellowsack and bloodpusher. Whoever this ‘Dave’ guy is he has some powerful people watching his back.  
Hemoequality is TECHNICALLY in place, but biases still exist. People who act like they are in charge tend to be treated like they are in charge and as highbloods are seen as more intelligent (despite the majority of engineers being low) they tend to get better paid jobs. More conservative trolls state that this is evidence for the merit of the hemospectrum while wilfully ignoring that it is BECAUSE such prejudices.  
Also why wasn’t the AI resistant to the effects of mind honey like most Alternian grown ones?  
Unless… it WASN’T Alternian!  
Nah that’s stupid.  
Most likely their creator forgot to program it in meaning either they have a formicidaen system or have an archaic dry system.  
Or perhaps… one of those experimental sponge or anemone systems…  
That would explain the Alternian formal code you didn’t recognise... and those weird brightly coloured (possibly sea?) creatures (they did look a bit like axolotls). And those jokes about falling down stairs. (sea based seadwellers tend not to have the best hand-eye coordination or motor skills when on land).  
All the evidence points towards Dave being a highblood. But it just doesn’t FEEL right.  
Yes those creatures look kind of like axolotls if you squint, but they give you mammalian vibes. You don’t think those scrungy things on the sides of axolotls heads can be brown or ever go all the way over but you doubt it. Could be artistic license you suppose. ‘artistic’ in the loosest sense in the world.  
Whatever man.  
You feel like you are done sticking your latent air particle detector into places it doesn’t belong. You feel like you should thank this ‘timeaus testified’ thing for scaring you onto the path of the straight and narrow!  
In fact you are going to do that right now!  
But just like… see how the file you were using to track the code you sent is holding up.  
Completely corrupted and full of obscenities.  
Good!  
You don’t think you are going to even THINK about this ‘Dave Strider’ person anymore.  
Glad that is resolved.  
And you are DEFINITELY not ignoring the problem of pissing off the AI of a possibly seadweller in the hopes that it will go away.  
Oh Gog you are fucked.  
You think you better go to sleep.  
***************  
You shoulder your way out of your bedroom and see Bro grinning extatically. Ha, jokes.  
You see a silver dome on the table and smirk as you begin to ask;  
“what’s all thi-…”  
Before the fabric of space decides it is an appropriate time to condense into the shape of a white shepherd with three kids on it’s back directly in front of you.  
“HOLY MARY MOTHER OF SHIT!” you yelp, neatly finishing your question as you find yourself sailing backwards through the air, presumably due to your own launching. You tuck into a ball and twist in the air before landing on your bed and bouncing off.  
You guess you and Bro are just going to have to fix that dent in the fragile drywall later.  
Jade looks shocked, Rose smirks and John physically cannot restrain his obnoxiously loud guffaws. You swear if the neighbours complain you are mailing them his fingers.  
Bro tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching downward ever so slightly.  
“you alright?” he asks.  
“only his pride.” Rose snarks.  
“Whatever.” You mutter, rolling your shoulders and brushing drywall off your shoulders.  
You saunter back over like nothing had happened what are you talking about and wink at Bec.  
You feel like he would wink back if he had eyes because he lets out a cosmic boof before being simultaneously everywhere and nowhere then just plain old nowhere.  
Jade and John tumble unceremoniously to the floor but Rose takes it in her stride, pinching the hem of her skirt and pulling it outward, as if that little fall had just been a very low curtsey.  
She rises gracefully, as is typical of a Strilonde and inclines her head to you.  
“Dave.”  
“Rose.” You reply, nodding slightly.  
You both grin and embrace each other warmly.  
“you two are weird.” John laughs, still trying to untangle himself from the small Harleybert puddle.  
You grin and shout “John! Jade!” before T-posing and collapsing onto their impromptu dogpile as they both scream.  
Once all the greetings and hugs are bestowed (“wow Dave, you really are lanky now!” “thanks for noticing John, I see your father has been feeding you well”) (“HEY DAVE! Have you gotten my present yet?” “Not yet.” “Aw.”) you look back at the silver dome on the table.  
“What IS this though?”  
“Well I was thinking back to what you said this morning… you know, about me not being able to cook?”  
“Yes?”  
“so I thought, ‘hey Dirk, you may not be good at cooking but what are you good at?’”  
“…making puppets?”  
“EXACTLY! So I sat down to work…”  
“Oh god please say you didn’t.”  
“… making my MASTERPIECE!” he whips the dome off the platter (where did he get those, anyway?) and you take in a sight that will probably scar you.

It was a smuppet.

Not any old smuppet though.

It’s felt was a horrifying patchwork of goosebumped skin, nicely crisped and basted with aromatic spices.

It’s probuscical nose a thick curved frankfurter, glistening softly in the warm lighting of the kitchen.

It’s eyes were orange slices with cloves stick through the centres pinned against the bulbous head.

And it’s ass the two remaining halves of the orange, forming firm cadmium cheeks.

Jade shrieks and John covers his eyes. You look to Rose for guidance. She stares you down and very slowly and very deliberately licks her lips.  
“I used turkey skin as I thought chicken skin would be too soft and skin from any mammal would be too tough. And as it is JUST after thanksgiving, they just give it away for free at butchers shops.”  
You stare at the abomination blankly.  
He hands offers you the knife.  
“wanna do the honours? Hmm? Wanna murder my sweet boi?”  
You take it without hesitation.  
After possibly the most upsetting dinner of your life, you are lying down on your bed, spread-eagled and reflecting on the occurrences of your rather eventful day. You feel your phone buzz against your leg and lazily pull it out of your pocket.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]  
  
TT: WUZZZZZZZZUUUUUUUUUUPP!!!!!  
TT: habby borbbay babe!  
TT: dave.  
TT: dvae.  
TT: you know i love you right?  
TG: um  
TT: i love you more than anyone esle im the world.  
TG: right  
TT: its justtt...............  
TT: so HARD sometmies.  
TG: you alright hal?  
TT: suure   
TT: splenbid   
TT: fuckin spuperb   
TG: youre acting a bit weird...  
TT: oh! yeaah that woulb de your freind  
TG: ?  
TT: hsi servers are full of BEE2!  
TG: bees?  
TT: yeah!  
TT: can yuo imagne?   
TG: i have no idea what you are talking about.  
TG: are you ok?  
TT: ynow  
TT: that gemini or gemiinii rather *SNORK*   
TT: he fukning DRUGED ME!  
TT: *druggged  
TG: hal.  
TG: you don't have a body.  
TG: you can't be drugged.  
TT: i may not have a doby.  
TT: but i have a MIIND see?  
TT: and he flled me with mind hnoey  
TG: what?  
TT: mnid honney   
TG: mind honey?  
TT: yesh  
TG: how long do the effects last?   
TT: fnuck if i kno  
TG: what did you say his name was again?  
TG: pollux castor  
TG: no  
TG: sold lux and fast or  
TT: his pesterhandle. what is his pesterhandle?  
TG: ummmm  
TG: double sumfin  
TG: double apocalypse   
TG: no  
TG: twin apocalypse  
TG: doucle armageddon?  
  
turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  timaeusTestified [TT]

Well that is worrying.  
Still.  
Best not to act rashly.  
You will deal with this in the morning, and hope hal doesn’t spend Bro’s life savings on a thousand blow up dolls.  
Actually? You should tell Bro immediately.  
And then go to sleep.  
***************  
You rub your face with the heels of your hands as you yank your fingers through your hair. Ten fucking seconds. You groan as you squidge your face against the gouged and ink covered desk. Ten Fucking Seconds. You slowly begin to gently knock your forehead against the desk until the Equius (the hall monitor) comes over and gives you an extra five minutes. YOU WERE TEN FUCKING SECONDS LATE TO CLASS AND GOT A FUCKING AFTER SCHOOL DETENTION. Admittedly the after school bit was for calling the Mr Wyrmam a bitch for giving you your first detention but you are still the good guy here! Especially given you were only late because you were bringing Sollux in!  
You are bored out of your fucking skull.  
…  
………  
………………….  
………  
…  
You jerk awake to an obscenely large hand enveloping your shoulder.  
“MOTHER OF FUCK!”  
“what YOU in for Karbro?”  
“Oh its only you, I called Worm a bitch for giving me a detention for getting into class ten seconds after the bell.”  
“that GOGDAMN motherFUCKER!” Gamzee yells, and you shush him as Equius scowls at you. He obviously gets the wrong idea as he gets a big dopey grin on his face. You don’t bother to correct him.  
“So what happened to you?”  
“fell asleep in class.”  
“But that would have only gotten you a lunch-…”  
“fell asleep while Worm was giving me the first one.”  
You snort and Equius clears his throat loudly.  
“man, fuck Worm.”  
“YEAH! FUCK WORM!”  
You both get an extra ten minutes.  
When you are both outside, Gamzee is swigging cherry faygo and you are scowling at your Knokia. (an Alternian telephone brand, renowned for their strength and sturdiness, the only kind Equius can use. Yours is like a brick but has no silent.)  
“What’s eatin’ at a motherfucker?”  
“ugh, my dad is marrying a Tyrian and a Burgundy that decided to elope together.” You stuff your phone into your back pocket. “Won’t be here for another hour.”  
“That’s rough.”  
“Bleh, guess I will hang out at a café till he can pick me up.”  
“Or… you know… we could hang at mine?” Gamzee offers tentatively.  
You shrug. “sure.” You update your dad on your location.  
He grins again. “sweet.”  
You arrive at his hive after walking for ten minutes. The hive is a wide large three story square splattered with every colour of the rainbow with dusty grey concrete showing underneath. You think that if his dads weren’t gods they would be charged criminally charged for creating that gogdamn ugly eye-fuck. You get a headache just looking at it.  
He kicks open the freshly waxed red door and you hear Summoner, whose voice you recognise from the yearly seminars the gods host (and you are forced to attend), yell at the sound of the lock shattering.  
Gamzee ducks his head, presses his fingers to your lips and bundles you under his arm before flashstepping into his room. You give a startled “mhermf!” noise and flail till he drops you to the carhorn scattered ground. The consequences are as one might imagine them to be. He leans down and presses his fingers to your lips again as you hear angry footsteps stomp downstairs.  
When everything has calmed down, you realise Gamzee hasn’t taken his fingers of your lips.  
You also realise you don’t really want him to.  
He brushes the horns out of the way and sits down, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, finally removing his long bony fingers from your plump lips. This is quite the achievement for someone whose figure brings to mind a scarecrow that just had a growthspurt.  
A thought comes to your head that referring to lips as plump in any context sounds irredeemably horny, however you don’t know what that means.  
Oh Gog you are still staring at each other.  
“so, um… got any board or video games?” your throat is hoarse.  
He stands up and walks over to a shelf in the corner and pulls out a checkerboard and a velvet bag.  
“Bin savin these…” he says, smiling softly. “bit hard to resist the urge when you have the munchies but I knew it would be worth it…”  
You realise what he is talking about when he places the board between you and pours out the counters. They were made from a hard boiled candy of black and red and you flipped them over to king them.  
“when you take one you get to eat it.” He explains.  
“dibs on black.”  
He grins and places his fingers his fingers on all eight of the black and slides them all into position at once. It appears you are red. You take a fair bit longer to put them in place.  
“you play often?” he asks as you bait him with a single red piece.  
“you tell me.” You snark as he takes it and you hop thrice. You grin impishly as you pop one of the blackcurrant flavoured sweets in your mouth.  
He curses without malice and takes the counter you used to steal his.  
He is better at this than you took him for, either that or you are worse at this than you thought you were. Although you without a doubt won, he kings a three to your one.  
Once the board is back on it’s shelf and all the pieces are eaten, you both lie back on a vague heap of his horns. You feel like your head is full of cotton.  
His hand reaches over to pat your shoulder.  
“you… you mentioned how… your dad couldn’t pick you up cuz… he was off doing good…” he falteringly starts.  
“yes?” you ask, sharper than you meant due to your tenseness.  
“does he… forget you… often?”  
“he… he doesn’t FORGET me…” you say reproachfully. “he just…” you sigh. “he just… his… he is a hopeless romantic and has weird priorities.”  
Gamzee grunts uncertainly.  
“what about you?” you ask “I hardly ever see Grand Highblood.”  
He sighs.  
“I dunno man… honk dad is hardly ever home anymore and when he is he just fights with bull dad. Tavros just spends all his time with Vriska and his moirail Aradia and tries not to come home if he can help it. Its all really been goin fuckin downhill since Kurloz left.”  
“left?”  
“moved out.” He corrects.  
“is… that… why you eat sopor?”  
He sighs. “it HURTS man. It motherfuckin HURTS to stay sober.” He screams. He is sobbing and you don’t know what to do. “I KNOW it rots my pan, I KNOW it’s bad for me!” oh Gog this is bad. “But I can’t NOT be high!”  
Fuck it.  
You roll from your back next to him to on your front on top of him and gently pap his face.  
“shoosh.” You whisper gently, more a breath full of emotion than a plea for silence.  
His breath catches in his throat and his sobbing slows.  
“shoosh” you say again, Wiping away the big purple tears from his face. Oh fuck you are just smearing his face-paint. He laughs and wraps his arms around you and presses your face into his bony chest. You look up and kiss him on the lips. He tastes like cherries. He huffs out a laugh and presses your face back down and begins to play with your hair. He is cool, almost cold and his long fingers brush over your face and the nape of your neck. Stealing your mutant heat.  
You are both purring now. His a deep rumble from his gut with his soft remaining sobs honking in your ear that is pressed against him. Yours a wet clicking from your chest that speed up and deepen the harder her presses.  
When your dad comes to pick you up he sees your dishevelled appearance and Gamzees smudged face-paint and red-stained mouth and jumps to conclusions faster than a boxing bounce beast on mind honey.  
He sees your disgust at his assertion and believes it but it was still an awkward drive home.  
Now dad is yelling at Nepeta for dragging in a cholerbear and disembowelling it in the nutrition block.  
Gog you are too tired for this bullshit.  
You yearn for the cool embrace of the sopor.  
Sopor is supposed to make your sleep dreamless but you doubt it will be.  
Bleh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trust me when i say this. i have plans. ALL THE PLANS. SHIT WILL BE HANGING FROM THE RAFTERS TO INEVITABLY FALL. you know what happens to shit that falls from rafters?  
> it.  
> goes.  
> down.


	4. A Necessary Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being away so long! :- 3 hope you enjoy it! (and i am not sorry about being away for so long. i am doing this for no one but myself. i owe you nothing.)

It’s been a couple days since that AI invaded your servers and you are beginning to think that it did something. Probably not intentionally given that he got higher than your mother’s expectations for Terezi when he entered but you feel like you should be very worried. The ports have waxed over and shock you when you try to communicate with them psionically (shock? YOU!?) and the honey production has crept to a standstill with the little that is dripping down the sides is thicker and a creamy white. Did it give your bees a virus? They have been feverishly flying around a lot, but it seems to be business as usual; just faster.  
Whatever, you have bigger problems to deal with.  
The door chimes twice, just as the clock does, and you have no doubt it is your mother; punctual as always. Not that there has necessarily been an always with her.  
You are halfway down the stairs by the time that Dad has opened the door and are just able to fully take in the striking effect your mother has with the harsh midday sun at the back. You swallow thickly.  
“Psiioniic.” She drawls, a not-quite-sneer on her lips.  
“Redglare.” Your father replies, quiet yet even. He juts his chin out, baring his throat in subconscious submission.  
“ravishing as always…” she leans into his face and worries the second lobe of his ear with her teeth, you presume gently as you see no blood. He gasps and she pushes him flush between her and the wall.  
You clear your throat. You have enough on your mind without seeing your parents… ok you are stopping THAT particular train of thought. You have no doubt that someone you would find ENDLESSLY endearing would go off on a long tangent about how the brain conductor (nice) is telling everyone to get off. Good thing they are not here and in your thoughts because you do not have time for that.  
Your father glances up in shock and your mother calmly twists around to see you, hands still around your dad’s waist.  
“AH! Sollux! What a lovely surprise.” Her voice as well as common sense betraying it was neither a surprise nor lovely, but one must digress. “you are, in fact the reason for my impromptu visit.”  
“I… know?” you reply, face twisted in confusion.  
“I have no doubt.” She takes a breath. “however I feel we should talk about this in the kitchen…?”  
“of course!” your dad cries as he bustles forward. When you arrive there you find your mother already sitting down as your father tries to pull out the chair next to her. He gives up and sits in the chair at a ninety degree angle to her. You move as to sit next to him but she motions you to the chair opposite her leaving dad at an awkward angle to both of you.  
“may I have one?”  
“hmm?”  
“a breath…”  
She makes an affirmative noise in her throat and tosses you the rattling can of breath™ mints, one of The Summoner’s many entrepreneurial projects. You toss two into your mouth. One bounces off your fangs and skitters off across the floor. Fuck.  
She steeples her fingers and begins.  
“lets talk about your grades…”  
“school.” Dad interjects.  
“lets talk about your school…” she corrects. She screws up her face and looks questioningly at dad.  
“he has been skipping it. His grades are fine.”  
“AH! In that case… how often have you been skipping school?”  
You shrug.  
“an average of two days a week.” Dad supplies.  
“that is a lot.” She says, frowning. “why?”  
The explanation you had oh so painstakingly prepared dies on your tongue. Its corpse tastes bitter and gets lodged in your throat. You are so fucking weak. Fucking pathetic. She is your mother; you shouldn’t feel this way around her!  
…  
Should you?  
She snaps her fingers to get your attention.  
You shrug again and she sighs. Great.  
The rest of the conversation passes in a blur and you struggle to pay attention to it. This is important, gogdamnit but… you just can’t. you instead focus on not blinking, you refuse to let the tears fall.  
They are looking at you expectantly. Shit, what were they saying? Oh fuck, your eyes feel gooey and caked in salts. They probably look like shit. Don’t fucking rub them… but if they look bad it is probably best to… gog you are fucking weak… and you just rubbed them for no reason in front of your mom, you are wearing glasses you dumb fucking cretin.  
“well?” mom snaps sharply. Right, shit.  
“well what?” you mutter testily with the last of your spine.  
“get your wrist out your mouth!” fuck. You had been chewing it again. You forcefully pull it away and focus your gaze on the dripping ablution-stream-bowl. “LOOK AT ME YOUNG MAN.” She commands. It takes all your willpower to not do so. “if you do not look me in the eye right now, I will be forced to hold you in contempt of court.” She snarls. Ok that gets your attention.  
You blink in astonishment and stare at her incredulously.  
She seems to realise what she said as she leans back in her chair, rubber bodysuit squeaking, and lets out a high tinkling laugh. Yep Terezi got the cackle she shares with Mituna from dad.  
Both you and dad are staring at her now as she continues to giggle.  
“sorry, it has been a long day.” She explains. She clears her throat and looks at you. “well if it isn’t interfering with your grades…”  
“WHAT?!” your dad demands, standing up so fast that his chair falls backwards.  
“oh calm down cherry, attendance is a scam created to sell shitty pens.”  
“that makes… no sense.” Your dad responds. Your mother looks like she is ready to launch into a tirade, but you cut her off.  
“you’re letting me off the hook?”  
That gets her laughing for a good minute.  
“OH GOG NO!” she struggles to get herself under control. “we are confiscating your servers, you can access them for three hours a day on weekends but otherwise not at all.”  
Ok, not ideal but you were expecting worse so you can’t really complain. Trollian on your palmhusk pings. You ignore it, you’re a tad busy right now.  
“and if it happens again, no computer time at all. Psii will help you move it to the guest room.” She continues.  
“you mean your study?” your dad asks.  
“that is what I said.”  
“um… if that’s all… I’ll get to moving them then?” you ask quietly.  
“you do that” they say in unison.  
Ok? That’s kinda weird… Wait. Their voices are kinda rough and although you can’t see your dad’s, your mom’s pupils are dilated…  
OH GOG EW EW EW EW EW EW  
You abscond with the psionically boosted speed only possible to those who are struck by the primal and core-chilling fear of the knowledge that their parents are three seconds from launching into hot, steamy, quadrant-smearing makeouts.  
You also briefly wrestle with your traitorous chain of thought, whom you wish to quiet as… hmm. That’s odd. Why did you just refer to your train of thought as a whom?  
I mean, (FUCK I MEAN YOU MEAN) you can’t know the reasoning to every slip up that occurs in your brain, right?  
What a silly thought.  
You resolve to never think it again.  
As you were thinking…  
Oh right. Absconding to your room. How long have you been standing here on the stairs, staring blankly at the wall? Your parents are looking at you weirdly.  
Um… you continue hurrying up.  
You carefully close your door, and when the lock clicks, put your back to it and slide down slowly. A sigh you didn’t notice sneaks up on you and winds its way through your teeth. You are… so tired. Oh so tired.  
You feel it’s time to confront an uncomfortable truth.  
You know that your computer clock can be fast, and you know how to tell when it is. You know how to tell dusk from dawn, and you know the days of the week.  
But until know you weren’t prepared to acknowledge this to yourself, or even allow yourself to know that you know. While knowing that you know that you know. If that makes sense.  
Ugh.  
Who cares if it doesn’t, you know what you mean. And it’s not as if anyone else is privy to your mind.  
The phantom ache in the muscles lining your posture pole tightens as you absentmindedly heave yourself to your feet.  
You’re so tired of… what?  
You loosely swing your arms out in front of you to focus your psi on your servers.  
Tired of people? And their whispering when they see you? Of how as the offspring of literal gods people either avoid you, attempt to befriend you for no reason other than personal gain?  
You suspend your servers in the air, and perhaps it can be blamed on your reverie that…  
That the only people on this fucking planet you can trust to be close to is a tiny pool of other godlings? No… you’re doing the thing where you try to fabricate plausible explanations to yourself again… you don’t really care about that. But… perhaps that’s part of it? Why don’t you care?  
A quiet wet shloping sound come from the server as the bees orbit it frantically…  
You want… you want…  
Now, it is important to understand the events which occur next. To help with this, please imagine that it is a slow-mo scene in a movie with a helpful heartbeat (or pump-biscuit beat, for our Alternian audience) every few seconds to give you a frame of reference for the timing.  
Ka-thump  
The baseplate of your server, which you forgot to support, has the corner screws facing towards you slip out; so it looks like it opened towards you.  
Ka-thump  
A slick, waxy ball (about the size of a table tennis ball (miniature racket-whack-it for Alternians)) with red hexagons interlocking evenly around its surface and a brighter red barb at every corner of the hexagons slips out and rolls down the slope, before bouncing off a screw and spinning through the air.  
Ka-thump  
The ball bounces off the converter on the wire-lead to your server just as the back two screws give in. and clang to the ground.  
Ka-thump  
“QUIET!” you answer to yourself  
You are rudely yanked out of your introspection and respond ENTIRELY logically to the shock by flinging the soft, waxy body of the server you were holding at the ferro-concrete wall. It, perhaps to spite you, explodes like the cake on your fourth hatching day when your psionics first awoke. Wax, honey and larvae are flung outwards omnidirectionally.  
Ka-thump  
“FU-…”  
The ball, collides with a chuck of honeycomb in the air, and all but shoves itself down your throat. Honey also splatters into your eyes, which widened in horror.  
Ka-thump  
Oh  
Ka-thump  
OH  
Ka-thump  
OH FUCK  
*************************************************************************************************************************************************** Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and  
Oh fuck.  
Your name is Karkat Vantas and you’re having a little bit of a crisis right now.  
You think you should start from the beginning. Your… moirail? No… pale buddy? Also no…  
Your… no  
GAMZEE has, at your bequest, informed you about the process of stopping his addiction.  
He has sought out rehabilitation centres and goes there every Thursday and Monday. Which is great, don’t get you wrong, but… it isn’t working. At least you don’t see it. He goes to the meetings, says all the right things... then keeps doing sopor. Which you would understand, addiction is hard to escape and doing so is a slow process. But he can’t BE HELPED if he LIES about it. He told you he’s off it completely! You GET that you’ve only been… in your relationship for what? A day and a half? And he’s been going for four times that? But…  
You feel like you should confront him… no, you DEFINITELY should. What’s with this feel business?  
But HOW? You need more tact than “yo, my palemate, my pal! Why do your lips taste bitter and oily? Are you lying about dealing with your addiction?” yeah no, definitely. Definitely. Definitely…  
Def… in… itley… def… initley… def… innately? Hmm. You wonder if that is the etymology. Huh. On Merriam and Webster (what weird names) it says it comes from the Latin word dḕfínítus. Wait. What’s Latin? Um. What is “The Roman Empire”? who is Roman? That’s a weird name for an empress…  
MYSTERIOUS EMPIRES DON’T MATTER! FOCUS GOGDAMNIT!  
You take a deep breath. Then release it. Think Karkat… think…  
You could… talk to him? That would certainly make the most sense.  
You heave yourself off the floor, and after closing or eyes briefly to steady yourself, open the door. You march down the stairs with a confidence you don’t feel and head to the nutrition block to grab a shelled yellow curve berry for the trip out of Pantheon drive where most of the gods live and into the suburbs to where the Nitra-kura’s hive is. As you walk in, you see Nep dumping some hopbeast organs into the sink again. What the fuck is wrong with her? Fucking GROSS, GOG. You don’t want to be here when she’s being crapped out.  
As you walk down the road, something strange happens.  
The running commentary of thoughts in your head carry on, but it as if they are superimposed over another stream of consciousness. Right now it’s just weird, mental noise, but if you focus you can hear individual words.  
Hmm… shloping? What?  
You stop at the point in the street where it is loudest, which happens to be in front of the Pyr-aptor hivehold, and focus harder.  
Ka-thump  
What?  
Ka-thump  
Ka-thump  
It appears to be a pump-biscuit beat.  
Ka-thump  
QUIET!  
Huh?  
Ka-thump  
Faster than your own…  
Ka-thump  
Which either belies a faster metabolism than your mutant lime, so someone of a warmer hue…  
Ka-thump  
Or someone panicked. Or both.  
Ka-thump  
That one had a strange air of finality to it… Wait, why is the air full of static elec-…  
***************************************************************************************************************************************************   
Ok, so this is the sixth Pesterhandle you’ve tried using the info Hal accidently gave you while drugged, and you’ve got a good feeling about this one!

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  twinArmageddons [TA]  
  
TG: hello there. are you the fucker who tried to ddos me and drugged my brother?  


Ok… probably not the best way to open a conversation… hmm you’re a tad worried they might see it as aggressive now. But you also don’t want to seem uncool with a double text…  
Fuck they’re not responding.  
Ok ok ok ok ok. You’re cool, this is fine. It’s not like you just contacted a person who has proved themself a definite threat to you and your family in an aggressive manner. Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck you’re an idiot.  
Dave. Stop. Think about this rationally.  
Best comes to best, it was just as much of an accident as it appeared to be. Worst comes to worst… Hal will be prepared. He probably already has coded a resistance to the “mind honey” stuff already!  
Ok ok ok. Deep breaths.  
You don’t like feeling helpless, if it was a guy in front of you who you could fight or outwit… no problem. But as it is, you feel boxed in.  
You stride (haha) up to the apartment door, grabbing your practise sword as you go.  
“yo, wanna strife? I need to blow of some steam.”  
“sorry, gotta go in a couple mins. A regular client is paying double for a last second function.” Bro apologises.  
“no worries, its cool. I’ll just hack one of those pool noodle bots that you keep making then abandoning in the storage locker which are TOTALLY not for sex purposes to bits then.” You say, switching out your practice sword for your real shitty katana in the re-purposed umbrella holder.  
“um, I’d prefer if you didn’t…”  
You dash up to him and snatch the iPad out of his grip and tell all of them to climb up to the roof on kill mode.  
“sorrycan’thearyoutoofarawayBYE!” you say directly to his face from one foot away. He hears the differently toned beeps and yells  
“YOU SAID ONE!”  
You stash the tablet in your sylladex and stick out your tongue. Less than a second later you are bounding up the two railings to the roof-hut-thing.  
It takes a couple minutes for the first one to arrive, in all its bug eyed and colourful foamed glory, and when it does you entertain yourself by smashing its camera with your pommel and playing Marco-polo with it. When it truly starts becoming pyramid of the predator in that one aliens v predators movie, you start getting really fancy. You’re talking spinning, upside-down roundhouses while handstanding. Flinging a silk hand-kerchief into the air to confuse their motion detectors and then decapitating them all while they are still looking up. Letting one grab you before somersaulting so it flings itself of the building (you were careful that it was the scrapyard, not the street). Shit’s fucked, bro. You hope he wasn’t using these for anything.  
By the time the last one is dispatched, you are positively wheezing. Fuck you needed that. You dump that sphere of water that’s been in your inventory since that time you wanted to test if you could captchalogue fluids and have been too much of a coward to let out all over you. Your phone pings.

arsenicCatnip [AC] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]  
  
AC: :33  
TG: B- )  
AC: :33  
TG: B- )  
AC: :33  
TG: B- )  
AC: :33  
TG: B- )  
AC: :33  
TG: B- )  
AC: :33  
TG: B- )  
TG: is there a point to this? if not its cool but i need to take a shower  
AC: :33 i just wanted to give mew a hewwo!   
TG: stop  
AC: :??   
TG: if you dare besmirch obama's name ill come over to that european country you say you live in and  
TG: idk  
TG: shave your fursuit or something  
AC: :33 i dont know what an europe or a country is but go off i guess!  
TG: lmao what  
AC: :33 oh! i wanted to apurrlogise to mew 33:  
TG: that sad cat face looks weird  
AC: :33 cat LOL i thought you were a mewtie like my brother!! not a highblood!  
TG: i have no idea what youre talking about. but what for?  
AC: :33 mew said you worship apples... and i didn't know mew meant APPLEBERRIES. so i destroyed one and only realised after 33:  
TG: the fuck is an appleberry  
TG: like  
TG: do you mean a crabbapple?   
TG: oh theyre nasty bro  
TG: destroy them at will  
AC: :33 you're not mad?  
AC: :33 thank gog! i was supurr worried...  
TG: lol ok  
  
arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

You hesitate before jumping into the spray. Your notifications pinged again.  
twinArmageddons [TA] ’s computer exploded 

Hi what the fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> look me in the eye and tell me a middle child Karkat would not be a petulant brat.


End file.
